


in service of the cause (and him as well)

by courgette96



Series: Of service and loyalty (and those we give it to) [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Codependency, Evil Space Boyfriends, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo is praise starved, M/M, reference to murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courgette96/pseuds/courgette96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren believes in the Cause, in order in a Galaxy ruined by the Republic's chaos. He has believed in it ever since Lord Snoke showed him the truth, raised him above others and gave him strength. </p><p>Kylo Ren believes in the Cause, but he is no longer sure his master does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in service of the cause (and him as well)

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, all mistakes are mine

Ben Solo is five when he comes down the stairs sleepily rubbing his eyes. Daddy isn’t there today, but Mommy is and she made breakfast.

“Hello Sweetheart,” she says affectionately, setting a plate and silverware in front of him as he sluggishly climbs onto the chair. “Did you have a bad night?”

“Hmm,” Ben moans in acknowledgement, before mumbling: “No, it was okay.”

“You look tired though,” she comments, pressing a kiss on his hair before ruffling his head. “Are you sure you didn’t have a nightmare? You know it’s okay to tell me.”

Ben doesn’t like telling when he has nightmares, because he is supposed to be brave, like Mommy and Daddy and Uncle Luke and Chewie, and brave boys don’t need help with nightmares.

But Ben didn’t have a nightmare last night, so it’s okay to talk about it.

“I didn’t have bad dreams,” he mumbles, reaching for his fork to start picking at his Nuna eggs. “It’s just that something was watching me sleep.”

The hand on his head freezes. “What?” Mommy croaks out.

“It was watching me sleep,” Ben repeats, before shoveling a forkful of omelette in his mouth. Nuna egg omelettes are always better than Ganza egg ones, so it’s very special to have some so he wants a lot of it in his mouth at once. “It wouldn’t go away, but then I stopped noticing and it was late and I fell asleep.”

Mommy stays quiet.

Ben keeps on eating.

 

*

 

Mommy and Daddy talk about the Empire sometimes, when they think Ben cannot hear. They also talk about an Order, the first one not the second or third or fifth, and they always sound scared.

Ben wants to know, but Mommy and Daddy don’t really want to tell him he knows, so when he asks, he is told not to worry about it. He is told it is a bad thing. It won’t happen again.

“But why is it a bad thing?”

“It kept people from doing what they wanted.”

“You didn’t let me climb on top of the Millennium Falcon yesterday.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“I did it for you safety.”

Uncle Luke says that sometimes you do things people don’t like to protect them, so Ben understands what Daddy is saying. He doesn’t like it, but he guesses that is the point. But what the Empire did is bad.

He still isn’t sure he understands.

 _Ungrateful,_ he thinks late at night when he is alone in his room. But it is weird, because he doesn’t know what that word means, so how could he think about it?

 _Peace in the Galaxy,_ comes to his mind more forcefully. _No more instability -_ he doesn’t know that word either - _no more disorder._

Ben pouts, drawing the bed covers over his head. He knows that word.

When there is “disorder”, it means Mommy’s face gets all pinchy. Uncle Luke frowns, and the Mommy leaves for a long time. “To the Senate,” Daddy says, which is like the Republic, but a part of it, and when Mommy comes back she is cranky and tired and in no mood for cuddles.

Ben tosses in his bed, and buries his face in his pillow.

He doesn’t know about the Empire, but he knows he doesn’t like disorder. Or the Senate.

 

*

 

They are sending him away.

He has to train, they say, he has to learn control, but all he hears is that they are sending him away because he can do things with his mind, things other children cannot.

They say there is nothing wrong with him, but if that were true Mommy wouldn’t look scared at times, Daddy wouldn’t look upset, even though they both think Ben can’t tell. If that were true, they wouldn’t be sending him away.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll be with Uncle Luke.”

Except he isn’t. Not really.

“You cannot call me Uncle here, Ben. You need to call me Master.”

Master Skywalker is not nearly as fun as Uncle Luke.

Master Skywalker makes him wake up early, sit still for long hours. He is supposed to meditate, but he doesn’t like it because there is something thick and oily that creeps near him every time he does. It brushes against him, making him feel dirty and trapped when it does, and oddly bereft when it leaves.

(Bereft, that is a Threepio word. It’s hard to pronounce, but very mature sounding. Ben likes it.)

He tells Master Skywalker, who frowns. Tells him to stop for the day, that they’ll start again tomorrow.

Ben doesn’t like meditating. He should be happy that it over for today. Instead, his stomach drops.

“Did I do something wrong, Un..Master?”

“No! No, of course not….” A forced smile. “Do not worry, it is fine.”

Ben doesn’t like that answer.

He didn’t worry before, and then they sent him away.

But he says nothing, and he goes back inside. To the house where all the Padawans live in.

“This will be your home for the next few years,” Master Skywalker had said with a smile, and Ben had tried very hard to hold his tears.

Home is Mommy and Daddy, and Chewie, where Mommy makes eggs for breakfast and Daddy lets him sneak into the Millennium Falcon. It isn’t here, where is has to meditate, and be alone because the other children don’t like him.

Ben knows they don’t like him, he can tell. He just _knows._ It is a permanent whisper in the back of his mind.

So he stays away, and glares. Master Skywalker looks at him frowning, but at a distance.

Until the day Ben overhears two of the children talking about him. A Cerean boy and a Twi’lek girl, speaking in hushed voices, the girl’s blue hand covering their mouths. But Ben can hear anyway.

“I heard the Master say he is like _Vader!”_ she says emphatically. She shifts her eyes towards him, as if to make obvious who she was talking about.

“Really?”

“Uh Huh. Too much of it. It’s bad.”

She keeps on talking, but Ben doesn’t hear much more, because it isn’t bad, he isn’t bad and _there is nothing wrong with him!_

He had become accustomed to heavy dislike ; now, it is pure anger that flows through him, burns in his mouth and makes the Force feel hot and bright around him. And she’s still talking.

Rocks fly, fast, precisely, much more precisely than he ever has ever managed before. The girl sees them coming, screams, dodges. One of them still hits her in the head, and she falls on her back. Dark blue blood spills from the gash over her eye, and the Cerean boy panics.

Master Skywalker is furious. “To use the Force in rage is the first step towards the Dark Side!”

Alone in his room, Ben wonders if maybe that’s why his parents sent him away.

Maybe there is something wrong with him.

_There is nothing wrong with you._

He startles, looks around wildly. There is no one there. Of course there isn’t. Master Skywalker has sent him here alone after he made sure the girl was alright.

But he heard a voice. He knows he did.

 _There is nothing wrong with you._ _She deserved what she got._

There is it again, soft and sinuous and comforting despite all the oil he can feel clinging to him whenever it speaks.

Because it is right, the girl did deserve it. Ben hadn’t done it on purpose, but he isn’t sorry, not one bit. Because there is nothing wrong with him. He isn’t like Vader.

He just got _angry._

 _Be proud, child,_ it whispers still. _The strength of your blood shows itself. Vader’s blood._

Ben bites his lips. He isn’t supposed to like being like Vader.

But the words brings him comfort, solidify him in his resolve that he is the wronged party, and he is so, so alone here. His chest warms at the thought of someone being on his side.

So he basks in the feeling, and determinedly pushes away any misgivings he might have.

 

*

 

He still feels the Dark when he meditates. He still feels it around him when he goes to sleep. He doesn’t tell his Master, who would most surely try to block it from him.

After all, why would Ben reject the first kindred spirit he has found?

 

*

 

It cannot go on for much longer. He cannot stand it anymore.

Skywalker has grown more insistent, has been pressing him more and more about his anger, his thoughts, spending so much time on him that he is neglecting the other padawans, and isn’t that enough to show the weakness in him? Skywalker is no teacher, has never been anything but a desert boy who stumbled into his own powers, how could he ever be expected to lead?

The weakness of Skywalker, of his parents, of the Republic. The cause for all his torment, his childhood misery, the reason why the Galaxy is falling apart.

He had wondered, once, why is uncle couldn’t see it, why is mother couldn’t. Why they cling to such a failure of a government when unrest and disorder abound. Pride, he had thought, unwillingness to admit that the system they had tried so hard to reinstate was nothing but a failure. And there must be some of that, he believes still, but now he knows what the greater problem is.

They are, at the core, defenders of the Light side, and such are doomed to be a disappointment.

The Light. It is easy way out, to choose inaction and letting oneself fade away instead of forging a new future. It is lazy, selfish even, and so it doesn’t surprise Ben anymore why so many are incapable of resisting its call.

 _Except for Vader,_ the voice whispers again, and the mere mention of the name makes his heart soar.

Vader had turned away from the Light. Vader had understood the need for a strong hand to rule the Galaxy. Vader had refused to stand by and watch his beloved die, as the Jedis would have had him do.

Vader took his fate in his own hands, and so shaped the fate of the Galaxy.

How Ben _longs_ to be like that man!

_You could be._

The offer had been voiced before, each renewal more tempting than the last. To leave the island, jump the ship of fools and walk in the footsteps of his grandfather, what a tantalizing thought!

And yet…

His mother sends Nuna eggs with her letters. His father makes plans of all the planets they will take the Falcon to.

Sentiment. Comfort. He cannot bring himself to let them go.

Selfishness, he thinks harshly to himself. How weak-willed you prove yourself to be!

But all his harsh feelings do not spur him into action. And so, for the longest of times, he waits for a sign, for the Force to tell him what to do.

It is like balancing on a thin wire, standing on the edge of a cliff, motionless for a moment that stretches on forever, waiting to fall so that time may start again.

He waits with bated breath. Sometimes, he thinks Skywalker might be as well.

He waits. And trains. And waits some more.

Until the day when his mother mentions the First Order in her letter. They have suddenly revealed themselves to be much more powerful than anyone thought, she writes, the distress of her words clear even through the clinical projection of his holopad. They had been a menace for a long time, building their power slowly, and now they act. Now they conquer.

The Military Disarmament Act has tied the Republic’s hands. They cannot act, not overtly. Others will have to take a stand.

Please, Ben, my darling, stay safe.

He slowly puts the holopad down. His eyes look straight ahead, unseeing.

That night, he dreams of large dark ships, white armor on black durasteel, hundreds of battalions marching as one, power so thick he can taste it on his tongue. Black uniforms with a black star emblem.

He sees himself, standing proud and tall. Dark mask and dark cape.

He sees an Empire in the making.

He wakes up with a gasp. His sheets are damp from his sweat, his limbs are shaking from emotions he can hardly bear, much less name.

Ben closes his eyes, and breathes.

When he opens them again, he knows.

Leaving is surprisingly easy after that.

The space shuttle are unguarded : Skywalker views it as an act of trust between the Master and the Padawan.

How unfortunate.

Finding where to go is even easier still ; the voice guides him, spurs him on by reminding him of all he has given for this moment and all he has to accomplish still.

When he lands on a planet with a soft orange sky and grey stone ground, he is rewarded with a name.

Snoke.

He enters a building made of stone that can only be a temple, soft volcanic rocks breaking under his feet and turning to dust. The deeper he goes, the louder the echo of his steps. Light is scarce here, dim rays coming from small openings in the ceiling.

He reaches the room in the center, he finds an old man sitting on a stone throne

“Welcome, Ben Solo.” The man’s voice is soft, his face is scarred, his skin is paper thin. He exudes power.

Ben stands in the silent room, suddenly feeling very self-conscious, keenly aware of the emptiness around him. The man on the throne merely looks at him.

He is waiting, Ben realizes. Ben is keeping him waiting.

And so, slowly, he kneels to the floor.

With his eyes trained on the ground he cannot see Snoke’s face, but he knows of the satisfied grin stretching those thin lips anyway.

 

*

 

His new training is demanding.

He wakes up at seven o’clock every day, as his Master demands. He is given food, then made to practice his lightsaber skills until he is almost too tired to stand. If he pleases, he gets water, and in those moments it always tastes like the sweetest of nectars.

In the afternoon, he is made to recite the principles they defend. As if he could forget them.

The code of the Sith, although his Master does not claim the title. Their apprenticeship system has proved flawed, but their dogma is still strong. More importantly perhaps, the cause for which he fights for.

_Peace is a lie, there is only passion._

Passion is what drives him. Passion is what makes the First Order strong.

_Through passion, I gain strength._

The Republic had been weak, and so chaos had spread.

_Through strength, I gain power._

The Galaxy needs a strong hand, a powerful leader to bring back the rule of law.

_Through power, I gain victory._

The Empire had accomplished that. Vader had accomplished that.

_Through victory, my chains are broken._

There will be prosperity. There will be order.

_The Force shall free me._

They shall restore order in the Galaxy.

He continues for hours, days, as he trains in hot caves and icy wastelands, body bruised and battered and pushed to its limits and still he recite the mantra, his resolve strengthening with every repeat.

When he is finally allowed to rest, he is so tired he barely has the strength to think.

Throughout it all, euphoria.

He feels reinvigorated, brighter, more in charge of himself. The path is clear.

He _belongs_.

The Jedi had never been the answer for him. Passivity and dull beige robes, all to fit a stagnant philosophy.

His clothes are black, to echo his Master’s. Echo Vader’s. He carves his destiny through conviction and the Force.

He is on the right track.

It is the thought he clings to when he fails, when punishment comes swift and harsh and always deserved. Because Ben didn’t understand, did not succeed, wasn’t perfect, and anything less than perfection is unsuited for Snoke.

His lightsaber form is lacking, so he is made to stay in position all through the day, no food or water or rest, arm raised and legs stretched even through torn muscles and broken bones.

He dreamed of his parents, and so he is forbidden sleep.

He tries to calm his mind, tries to use patience, and so his Master tears his mind open, stirs memories and digs out pain, betrayal and rage so that Ben may remember where true power comes from.

It is his fault, really. And Skywalker’s. And the Light’s. So much time spent with the Jedi has made Ben Solo weak, so of course Snoke must do everything he can to make him strong.

So of course, Ben endures. Ben accepts everything his Master gives him, lives day after day working to kill the rot from his past. It never seems enough ; he is never enough.

Until the day his devotion is finally rewarded.

“You have done well, my apprentice,” his Master says one day, and Ben is awash with relief and euphoria.

When has the Light ever done that to him?

He accepts everything his Master gives him, and so when he kneels before him one morning, he accepts a new name.

“We are not Sith, though we follow the Dark. We are not the antithesis of the Jedi, we are different, stronger. And you, my apprentice, are my Knight. Kylo Ren.”

When he rises, Ben Solo is dead. As he should have been long ago.

When he rises, he is Kylo Ren.

And his Master has given him a mission.

 

*

 

Ren stands under the shower. His face is facing the water stream ; it covers his eyes, runs down his nose and mouth, making it very hard for him to breathe. He doesn’t move.

He has proven himself today. Proven his devotion, his loyalty.

The water runs down his arms, dripping down his fingertips.

He has failed. His weakness is still apparent.

He can feel the water dripping down his neck, like ghost fingers brushing against his skin.

His master gave him orders. For the sake of the Galaxy.

The water is turning cold.

He hated those children, anyway. He had already forsaken Skywalker.

He is shivering.

It needed to be done. The Jedi needed to be destroyed.

But Skywalker has escaped.

His master had not been pleased. The most important target, and Ren let him escape.

The hot shower had been a mercy, something to soothe his cramping muscles if not his weeping cuts, something he did not deserve but is thankful for none the less.

Now it is cold. His cuts sting even more.

There had been new children, younglings he did not know. There had been the Cerean boy and Twi’lek girl. He never saw blood, red or blue ; the lightsaber had only left the smell of burned flesh. It had clung to his skin during the entire fly back - he could feel it.

Their death was necessary. For the good of the Galaxy.

Kylo Ren stays under the cold water, and drowns.

 

*

 

His training continues. He learns many things.

His skills improve. His anger blossoms.

It isn’t enough to make up for the failure in killing Skywalker.

 

*

 

There is a man in the standing before Snoke when he enters the room. It nearly makes Ren falter in his step: he doesn’t believe his master has ever let anyone in here besides him before. Especially when it is so obvious the man doesn’t possess

“Lord Ren,” his master announces, “I present to you General Hux, leader of the First Order’s military.”

Kylo turns towards the man. Pale skin and red hair under the standard black uniform. Nothing remarkable about him, save his rank.

“You will take residence upon his ship,” his master continues. “I trust you will use the resources given to you there wisely.”

Hux’s face remains impassive. If he is displeased by this pronouncement, he certainly doesn’t show it.

Kylo looks into his mind to find that he is, indeed, unhappy with this decision, but has already decided to move on to dealing with this new situation. In the man’s eyes, Ren is an irritant at best, a liability at worst, and in the most theoretical of cases, a resource. No respect, and certainly no fear.

Kylo’s eyes narrow under his mask.

He hates the man already, he decides

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” he says out loud. His feelings do not matter in this equation.

 

*

 

They lost track of them.

Five Resistance ships spotted near Dakuyl, _five_ , yet somehow the Stormtroopers managed to lose track of all of them.

And Ren had been in charge of hunting them down. Ren had lead the chase. This is Ren’s failure, and because of it the Resistance will last that much longer, the stability he works so hard to install in the Galaxy grows one step further away.

 _Work matters little when there is no result,_ his Master had said. It is all the reproach that had been given to him - Lord Snoke never loses his temper, and his punishments are always controlled and just.

Kylo has never been able to discover just what his Master deems worthy of punishment, and what deserves forgiveness. It has always seemed so arbitrary to him, even as he strained harder and harder to find any indication coming from Snoke. A twitch of the mouth, a tilt of the head, a particular inflection within his voice, all betraying different thoughts, different moods, painstakingly cataloged and revised through each success, and more often failure.

He had been certain he would feel the viciousness of his Master’s power this time around. He didn’t, and it confuses him.

He doesn’t understand, and so he can hardly manage to be grateful.

The thought nearly drives him mad.

It is as if he can _feel_ his own weakness, slowly coursing through his veins like mud, seeping into his flesh, rising into his throat and it burns like bile.

His vision turns red.

What happens next is a blur, as it usually is.

Hacking at consoles with his saber, using the Force to smash holoscreens ; it is never a conscious decision on his part, but it is always so _cathartic._ Giving full release to his rage, destruction as an outlet, the power of the Dark Side flowing through him even after a failure.

He hits and hacks and slashes, his eyes never leaving the console ; sparks fly as the electrical wires are cut. Red glow of his saber dances at the corner of his eye.

Distantly, he can hear soldiers scurrying away, feel some purposefully avoiding the hallway. They fear him.

Good.

With two final hacks, the console bursts in one final grizzling sound before the entire machine dies, not even small sparks to be seen in the torn apart shell.

Kylo stands panting in the middle of the wreckage.

The process is satisfying, if anything else.

“Are you quite done?”

Ren turns around the find Hux standing in the doorway. His posture as impeccable as ever, chin held high, eyes cold barring the slight shade of displeasure within.

“Do you want anything, General?” The vocal modulator on his mask had been designed to erase most emotions from his voice ; it is very useful for sounding aloof and unconcerned.

Unfortunately, he had wanted his tone to be more aggressive here. That it isn’t is enough to stir his anger once more.

“If you would refrain from destroying valuable equipment, I would be much obliged,” Hux answers sarcastically. His expression sobers once more, and he takes a step forward. “Exert your tantrums on your own property, I don’t care. But not on mine.”

He steps closer still, until he is inches away from Kylo. The Knight growls. “I am not yours to order, Hux.”

“You are on my ship,” the General hisses out. Had his mask not been on, Kylo would have felt his breath over his face. “Using my men. My resources. That makes you accountable to me, and I will not have you destroying this ship in your foolish bouts of violence.

“I only give accounts to the Supreme Leader,” Kylo growls.

“So do I. Shall I report to him that his pet Knight deals with failure with the same grace as a six year old?”

“Your men an inefficient. Useless.”

The Stormtroopers are one of Hux’s accomplishments, an alternative to the clones he has spent a very long time pushing before the policy had been adopted. Kylo knows his comment will hit right into Hux’s pride.

It does, but the General’s reaction is subdued. A clench of the jaw and a flash of anger in his eyes, but when he answers his voice is still steady. “They are trained from birth. Loyal. Disposable, if necessary.” He sneers. “And only as effective as their leader allows them to be.”

Ren’s anger flares at the insult. He leans forward, making the distance between their two faces shorter still. He calls upon the Force, making the air thicker with power. He is certain Hux can feel it. “You should not disrespect me so, General,” he warns. “I wield power you could never comprehend.”

Hux smirks. “Is that a threat? Will you harm me? Go ahead. Show me how strong you are. Explain to the Supreme Leader what happened to his General.” His eyes flash when Kylo doesn’t respond. “Go ahead then. Consider it an _order._ ”

Ren can feel his pulse beating in his temple. He can feel the air burning in his lungs, his vision narrowing. Hux keeps on looking at him, calmly defiant, so very confident in his own position.

He clutches his hands, painfully. The pain does little to ground him.

The General smiles. It is a discrete thing, but very clearly triumphant. “I do not respect men who behave like children. Nor those who do not follow up on their threats.” He leans forward. “Do remember that, Lord Ren.”

He leaves then, deliberately turning his back to him and walking away without one look back.

Kylo watches, resisting the urge to lean against the destroyed console, and only when he is certain the General is gone does he release a breath.

 

*

 

Six months later, he kneels before Snoke.

Well, not him in the flesh, but his master is no less imposing when speaking through a hologram, and it has nothing to do with the size.

“No results, my apprentice?” The soft voice resonates in the cavernous room. Kylo resists the urge to close his eyes in shame.

His own lacking has brought this on. He will not hide from this.

“How… disappointing.” His master sighs.

Shame rises within him, so much so he almost chokes on it.

“If only you proved yourself capable of killing him,” Lord Snoke says almost wistfully. “Then your purpose in this war would be fulfilled.”

His insides freeze at the words. His mind, on the other hand, races so fast he almost cannot recognize his own thoughts through the noise inside his head.

Little hands holding small sticks. The smell of burning flesh.

Perhaps there had been no use in killing the younger ones. Perhaps it didn’t matter, since Skywalker survived.

Their deaths had been for nothing…

But his master had asked. Does it not make it just?

His mother had begged him to stay safe.

The pain that comes with punishments begins, cutting off his thoughts more effectively than any meditation ever could.

He is incredibly grateful.

 

*

 

The are not many people aboard the Finalizer who would dare march into Ren’s quarters.

To be perfectly accurate, there is only one.

“What the _kriff_ happened out there?” Hux snarls as he steps through the door. He is still wearing his greatcoat, having obviously gone straight to find Ren after he had finished giving orders outside.

They probably all involved clean-up of some sort. Ren had left quite a mess out there after all.

“You were there. Surely you remember?” the Knight drawls, cursing the absence of his mask. It had felt suffocating after the incident moments outside, and once in his quarters he hadn’t waited a moment before taking it off. Foolish behavior, in retrospect, for it now allows Hux to see his face.

Then again, he couldn’t have predicted that _Hux_ of all people would be one to disregard protocole.

“Ren..” the General growls. “Do not play games.”

Kylo reclines on his chair, looking out of the window in an air of profound boredom. “The leader had no information to give us pertaining to Skywalker or any new lead. I saw no reason to tolerate his disrespect.”

The man had known who Ben Solo was, somehow. Had taunted him with the knowledge, speaking vague allusions filled with a smugness he had no business possessing. Most likely he thought he had found Ren’s weakness, and thought it gave him power over him.

Kylo had quickly corrected him of that misconception, shown him what true power is, the brute strength of the Force. Because he does not care about Ben Solo, or what his life might have been once, and if that man _thought_ he would let himself be so shaken -

He hadn’t been shaken. Merely enraged. It is an important

The difference between the two is Light and Dark.

“You caused an up-rising in an already defeated group!” Hux’s voice rises dangerously close to shrill on the lasts few words, a lack of control betraying just how on edge he must be. Ren has seen him bark orders and give reprimands with nothing but a steady and low voice. There is a certain pride in knowing he can so get under the General’s skin.

Of course, the relish is short-lived as Hux’s ever present self-control reasserts itself. When he next speaks, his anger is still apparent, but it no longer seems close to overwhelming him. “We were low on Stormtroopers, we needed to keep them cowered in order to control them! Your useless display of cruelty saw an end to that.”

Ren turns toward him. “Why, General, I had no idea you were so squeamish.”

Disappointingly, his jab is ignored. “We lost half of our Stormtroopers, had to kill people we could have otherwise interrogated!”

“Stormtroopers are replaceable.”

“That isn’t the point!” Hux seethes. “You are careless with our resources, and without your intervention we could have had some intelligence on the Resistance’s plans of attack!”

“Those concerns are your own, and entirely pointless,” Kylo dismisses harshly. He stands, and despite himself, turns towards the most important room in the ship, his inner sanctum. His greatest possession is there. “Skywalker is all that matters.”

Hux follows his gaze, and promptly rolls his eyes. Of course, he knows exactly what Ren keeps in there - most likely through the security cams that Kylo has been forbidden to tamper with. “That Sith you worship so much,” Hux sneers, “do you think he went around compromising important operations in his blind rage?”

Kylo turns sharply, glaring furiously as the utterly unimpressed fool. “Do not speak of what you do not understand!” he bites out, vision already narrowing on the redhead.

He has already destroyed one man for blatant disrespect. He sees little reason why he couldn’t make that two.

“I understand perfectly well,” Hux retorts. “Better than you do, at the very least.” He lifts his chin at the challenge.

“These are matters of the Force, something you will always be pitifully blind to.”

Hux smirks nastily. “Do you always blame the Force for your own failings?”

Ren bites back a growl. His anger will go through the Force, not through his voice. The air around him thickens through his own power, and he wonders if the General can feel it. He doubts it. “We are hunting Skywalker, as the Supreme Leader commanded.” He takes a step towards Hux ; the man stands his ground. Anything else is secondary.”

“No, Ren,” Hux hisses. “ _You_ are the one tasked with hunting Skywalker, and you are the one who is failing. I am tasked with leading the war against the Republic, something made more difficult when I have to contend with a _rabid dog_ who cannot contain his violence!”

“Skywalker is the greatest threat to us.” The greatest threat to Ren, whose everlasting failure in destroying him perpetually lessens him in his Master’s eyes. “He should be your priority.”

“Skywalker has disappeared fifteen years ago, and has done nothing since. The Resistance is active, the New Republic is mocking us, and they are far more dangerous than a recluse of an old man!”

“You know nothing of the Force. You know nothing of its wielders.” Nothing of me, he doesn’t add. His lips pull back into a sneer.“What value to your input?” he hisses.

Hux’s jaws clenches. “What value to your actions, when they have cost us valuable intelligence?”

“Intelligence is not hard to come by,” Ren hisses through gritted teeth. "It is nothing _I_ cannot extract from the mind of the next prisoner.”

“If you truly believe that, then you are far greater a fool than I took you for,” the General spits out. “Information is compartmentalized for a reason. I am certain your mother is aware enough of your abilities that she takes precautions against them.”

Kylo Ren freezes. His breath hitches, although if it is from fear, anger, or anything else, he doesn’t know.

Perhaps not anger, because the idea that Hux, _Hux_ of all people, would know about the boy he has tried so desperately to kill, it just cuts off whatever rage he may have been building up. Instead, all he feels is a strange sort of emptiness, like waiting for something horrible to happen while being unsure if it already hasn’t.

“You know,” he hears himself say, his voice flat even without the modulator. It is unpleasant, hearing it himself, as if voicing the fact made it any more real. It doesn’t, of course ; it’s just that before now, he had been blissfully oblivious.

“I do a background check on all who board my ship. Yours took more effort, but I judged it a necessary precaution.” Hux looks at him in disdain. “Do not think for a moment that I cared anything beyond that.”

“You do not care?” Kylo hisses dangerously, stepping forward slowly until he is inches away from Hux. He lowers his head, accentuating the small height difference between the two of them. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Then you think to highly of yourself,” the General snaps back. “The only thing I care about is performance, and so far all you seem to manage successfully is kill people.”

“I can do many other things as well, General.” He reaches out towards his mind, putting pressure upon it so that he is certain Hux is very away of his presence there. “Care to experience my technique?”

For a moment, he feels it: the spark of fear at his abilities. For a man such as him, a thinker, a schemer, having his mind flayed open would be a frightening prospect indeed. For that moment, Ren is filled with a dark sort of satisfaction.

But then that fear is quickly squashed, replaced by cold anger and a fierce determination not to be cowered. “You..!” Hux chokes out, before quickly composing himself. “Do it, and you merely prove me right.”

Ren cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Harm me, and you disrupt the entire chain of command. the Finalizer is sent in a tailspin, to say nothing of the other ships. Your shortsightedness and petty need for violence costs the First Order, compromises our cause.” Hux lifts his chin. “You know this, though. You simply choose to ignore it.”

_I know you are smarter than this, you could do so much better!_

It takes Ren a moment to realize that that last part hadn’t been spoken aloud. Those are Hux’s thoughts, still heard through Ren’s presence in his mind. For a moment, Kylo considers that Hux had done it intentionally, but quickly dismisses that thought. The General is too inexperienced with Ren’s technique to know how to do it.

So that only leaves sincerity then.

That is… disarming, to say the least.

Kylo quickly steps back, walking back towards the table to pick up his helmet. Without looking back towards Hux, he slides it back on. The lock clicks, a reassurance that he has his greatest piece of armor once more.

“We report to the Supreme Leader in ten minutes,” he says, the modulator lending false calm to his voice. “We will see what he has to say.” And then he walks away, leaving Hux alone in his quarters. The General doesn’t say anything, is probably too stunned to do so, and Kylo refuses to give him the opportunity to.

This isn’t running away, he tells himself harshly.

He merely needs to think.

 

*

 

The Supreme Leader had nothing to say against him, once he had ascertained that no information pertaining to Skywalker had been lost. Hux had looked unperturbed during the entire pronouncement, at twitch at his jaw the only sign betraying his displeasure.

It had been a victory for Ren, undoubtedly, yet he cannot bring himself to fully celebrate. Instead, he finds himself troubled.

It had been easier when he believed Hux despised him. Then, his words could easily be brushed aside. Now though, knowing that the General has at least some esteem for his capabilities - an entire foreign concept to him, who could never hope to compare to his Master’s strength. Who is honored through every mission he is given despite his failings. A foreign concept indeed - and dangerously pleasant.

He forces that thought away, banishing it to the place in his mind where he keeps all he doesn’t think about.

What remains is Hux’s criticism, which stings at his pride tremendously, he will admit to himself. And since he is in the process of brutal self-honesty, he might also consider the fact that the General may not have been completely wrong.

This is bigger than him, bigger than Kylo Ren and his struggle to prove his devotion. This is about the Galaxy, and how far it has fallen, and how they will make it strong once more. They, the First Order, the Supreme Leader.

So, if he is honest at least to himself, then there is truth in Hux’s words. The First Order has suffered through his actions.

Yet the Supreme Leader did not reprimand him. So surely he was in the right?

And yet…..

He groans. He will find no answers tonight.

Vader’s mask is silent before him.

 

*

 

An entire Resistance base obliterated. And it had been, for the most part, entirely thanks to him.

Kylo Ren stares out the window of the control room, looking over black space peppered with white specks, a faint blue nebula like a wisp in the corner. He is contemplating his victory, he tells himself.

It had been like in the stories of old: sneaking into the city walls, opening the gates to let the enemies in. Except it hadn’t been walls, but a force field, and Ren had spent nearly two days inside the base. It seems the Resistance has forgotten that just because he does not make a habit of stealth doesn’t mean he is incapable of it.

So two days spent out of his uniform, manipulating the minds of those who would come to close. Taking down machinery the way his - the way Han Solo taught him once, and the Stormtroopers had arrived like a tidal wave. The Resistance hadn’t even been able to retaliate. The victory had been complete.

Well-worth Ren’s harshly imposed patience as well. For two days he had watched them closely, those men and women - those Resistance scum, talking and laughing and being much too light-hearted when their death had been imminent, by his hand. He had even recognized one, a man who used to be _Organa’s_ assistant. He used to sneak candy to Ben Solo.

When he looked at him, he could still taste the outrageous sweetness that could only appeal to a child’s palate. Lemons and oranges and sugar

Kylo Ren had killed him personally. He had looked for him through the battle that was more of a slaughter than anything else, and had harshly slashed at his back, making him fall to his knees mid run. The sound of his body falling against the ground hadn’t even been heard over the sound of all the screams.

It hadn’t even made him feel better - because Ren didn’t need to feel better, the man was inconsequential. Unimportant. Dead.

There hadn’t been any children, he had noted with relief. Then he had harshly reminded himself that such considerations didn’t matter. Not in service of the First Order.

The means are nothing ; the end is everything, and just.

And blasters don’t leave the smell of burning flesh anyway.

There had been no information on Skywalker, disappointingly. But he had managed to extract the location of several other bases, and that had been enough to placate his master.

He had been rewarded by lack of accusation. Of course, he is grateful, despite that part of himself that points out that he cannot know what sort of information the rebels might have, and any new base discovered is a step closer to Organa, if not Skywalker, and why does his master not -

“Lord Ren.”

The call startles him out of his thoughts - caught of guard, how disappointing of him. He turns slowly, once again thankful for the mask that makes him looked composed no matter the situation.

Hux is standing a fair distance from him, in a rare act of consideration. His expression is as guarded as ever, but for once Ren senses no hostility in his demeanor.

“General,” he greets as formally as Hux had moments ago.

Hux seems to take it as an invitation, stepping forward to join Ren at the window. He looks into the vast darkness. “Have you come to enjoy the view?”

“Have you?” Kylo shoots back.

Hux smirks, just a little, and again it is devoid of the hostility Ren is used to feeling. “I am not without my frivolities, when my schedule permits,” he says almost lightly. His gloved hand comes to rest on the transparisteel. “I find this sight to be quite inspiring.”

“I had not taken you for a man in need of inspiration.”

“I am not. But as I said,” Hux shrugs, “frivolities.”

Silence follows, the two of them staring into space side by side. They could leave it at that, a quiet if an odd moment between , but for no reason he can articulate Kylo rekindles the conversation. “The emptiness invites introspection. More than the confines of the quarters given to me.”

Hux turns towards him, head tilted. “A week ago, I would not have thought you capable of any sort of introspection.”

“Yes, you did.” The deadpan is his voice is amplified by his helmet.

Hux’s lips twitches at this. They both know what he is referring to, and the General has never hidden his distaste for mind reading when directed against him. Still, the reminder doesn’t seem to affect his rather pacific mood. “Capable, then,” he amends. “but not willing.”

“That is more accurate. Have I changed your mind?” It takes all he has to keep from wincing ; his words sound much too eager

Hux raises an eyebrow, a small glint of amusement in his eyes. “Barely. But I have found that soldiers perform better when superior officers encourage their success.”

“I am not one of your subordinates.”

“Indeed not. Running this operation would have been much easier had you been.” Hux smiles slightly at his last statement, which was not quite a joke, before turning back towards the window, his eyes on a distant blue star that still looks much bigger than most. Must be the most inspiring star, then. “We are members of the First Order. In that regard, your successes are mine, and inversely.”

It is a nice sentiment, but wholly inaccurate. Kylo scoffs. “I eagerly await credit for the Starkiller then.”

Hux’s smirk is frank now, amused but not sheepish. He inclines his head in concession. “We all have our points of pride.”

And Hux would be proud of such a project. Kylo doesn’t know how long he has spent on it, but it must have been years at the very least. The calculations alone are staggering, to say nothing of the logistics, and Hux has directed all of them with a perpetual confidence in his own plan.

It is justified, Kylo willingly admits. The plan is at the image of its creator: ruthless, efficient, frightening. The first time he had laid eyes on the project, his stomach had dropped, his mind had nearly gone blank at the prospect. The smell of burned flesh had filled his nostrils, and he had needed to retreat to his quarters in order to chase away treacherous thoughts and unwelcome images.

Even know, the Starkiller operation fills him with unease. But when it comes to the cause, sacrifices must be made.

And dissident planets are a very small price to pay.

“The project is ambitious,” he offers. “Its success will be quite an accomplishment.” Will be, not if. He has no doubts Hux will succeed in his endeavor.

The General nods graciously, recognizing the compliment offered. “Yes, it will be. And of course, a momentous advantage for the First Order.”

“Of course.”

Silence settles between the two once more, and it is devoid of any tension.

“I despise the Republic, Lord Ren.” Hux’s eyes never leave the view before them, but there is a glazed aspect to them that matches his contemplative tone. He speaks slowly, as if every word was new to him, full of meaning he must discover. “It is willfully weak and utterly complacent. That makes our victory easy, as well as just.” His eyes focus once more, full of the intensity he brings to battle. “And I will see to it that it is complete.”

Ren nods, though he has no need to. After all, his agreement is a given, a simple fact that comes from his presence here and his place in the hierarchy. But remaining unresponsive after such a declaration seems… crass, somehow. Unworthy. “If so, then you will have to account with the Resistance. Your great weapon will be of no use against them. They are too dispersed.”

Hux hums. “Is that not what you are here for? Your performance this night appeared as a testament to your efficiency. And power.”

Kylo blinks, slowly turns his head towards the General. Hux is still looking straight ahead, deliberately acting casually in the face of the unprecedented.

A compliment from General Hux. Not only that, one given freely and openly.

Something bubbles inside of Kylo, something he has not felt in years that isn’t pride, certainly not giddiness, but leaves behind a certain warmth that he revels in. It is, he realizes, the first true praise he has received in a long time, and despite himself self he drinks it up like a parched man would water.

It is pathetic, perhaps, but right now he cannot help but indulge. He has earned it. He has done well, and the two of them know it.

“I do hope you will continue this line of success in the future.” The word’s are haughty, but something in Hux’s tone make the words not as condescending as they could be. It isn’t playful, Hux is not a playful man, but there is a lightness to them that keeps Ren from taken offense.

“I do not do it for you, General. You do not command me,” he retorts, although there is little bite in his voice.

It is a strange sort of peace between them today.

Hux nods. “Indeed I do not.” He turns towards “You do it for the First Order. For our cause. I can respect such devotion.”

Devotion. That is what binds them, is it not? Despite all their disagreements, all their confrontations, they are united by their devotion to the First Order. Hux’s loyalty and passion matches his. He is perhaps the only man who can claim such a thing.

Ren is not so prideful that he cannot recognize such a quality when it is time. “As can I,” he says quietly, earnestly.

Hux nods once more, turns towards the transparisteel one more time, and this time stays silent, hands behind his back and posture straight. Kylo stands by him, somehow both relaxed and acutely aware of the distance between the two.

 

*

 

“Still no results, my apprentice?” Snoke asks dangerously.

Ren has destroyed three Resistance bases. He has destroyed fifty rebels single-handedly. Through his interrogation, he has found key weaknesses within the New Republic. With Hux’s assistance, two systems have sworn loyalty to the First Order, thus depriving the Republic of valuable resources.

But his master knows all this. And it isn’t what he is looking for.

“No, master,” Kylo answers demurely.

The pain that follow is nearly awe-inspiring in its intensity. It burns like flames and ice both. Kylo accepts it all, as is his duty. The Supreme Leader is wise in all things.

He reminds himself of that fact again and again, convincing himself of what he used to believe without question.

It works, but only until he stumbles back into his quarters, and tends to his aching muscles. He begins to entertain dangerous notions. Starts to think that in this, the Supreme Leader had been wrong. Unjust.

But who is he to say such things? He is Snoke’s apprentice, weaker, he should be grateful that the Supreme Leader has taken any interest in him at all, has taught him so much, and Ren had not doubted then. To question him is to question his teachings, to fall into the trap of the Light.

But all that Kylo has done...

“Grandfather…” he whispers, moans, begs. He doesn’t know.

Vader’s mask stays silent.

 

*

 

Hux stands proud, tall, and alone on the upper deck. The stage is his.

Addressing the troops is a General’s duty, and so Kylo watches from the side as that one man nearly screams his conviction. It is, in many regards, a pointless gesture: the Stormtroopers are loyal through conditioning. They need no convincing, and no galvanizing.

But perhaps Hux does it for himself most of all.

“Our work is great,” Hux proclaims, pausing to let every word sink in. “Our cause is greater. We are the defenders of the Galaxy!”

Such confidence in him, in his place and his path. Kylo has felt it more than once, whenever he prodded into the man’s mind. He has had to grow more and more subtle with each try: the General has begun to develop some sort of control over his mind. Not enough to block him, of course, but enough to sense Ren’s presence if the Knight isn’t too careful.

Kylo had thought he would be irritated by the fact ; instead, he feels… well, not impressed, but something distressingly close.

“We have built our strength on our conviction, and thus we will not be stopped!”

Perhaps Hux speaks of himself. To be so young, and a general already. So young, yet so talented. Like Kylo, only with the fortune of being born on the right side of this war.

“We will crush those who oppose us! Dissident worlds will recognize our authority, or be destroyed!”

There is a heat in his eyes, a passion that is so seldom seen on the usually composed face, and it is a good show. But perhaps this is Hux in truth, Hux revealed. This is the core of the man, and the rest is merely self-control and discipline, imposed onto himself before he demands it of others.

Perhaps Hux is as passionate a man as Kylo.

The thought has an extraordinary appeal.

“The First Order will rule the Galaxy!”

The Stormtroopers salute, and Hux stands proud, taking in the respect and proclamation both gracefully and as if it were his due.

Kylo watches, both breathless and inexplicably warm.

 

*

 

The Rebels have launched a counter attack. A successful one.

Several ships have been destroyed, some with important officers aboard - not Hux, thankfully.

But the General had been too busy managing this crisis, and many of the soldiers have been dispatched in a counter attack, so Ren had been the one to announce the death of several high-ranking officers.

Although he feels no sadness for their loss, he recognizes their sacrifice for the cause. Their deaths have been honorable, their service loyal, and their death demands recognition.

But Snoke hadn’t cared, had almost laughed at him for thinking this was news worth reporting.

They died for the First Order, and Snoke sneered and discarded them like broken tools.

The thought will not leave him, so he chases it away by cutting through a prisoner’s mind.

 

*

 

_The Resistance has been crushed.The Stormtroopers march in a sea of white. This is a victory parade._

_Kylo watches from up above. How high, he does not know. It could be a balcony, the top of a tower, the sky. The whole Galaxy, perhaps, finally at peace, finally in order. The planets dance around their stars, the Force binds all, and he watches it all, filled with the satisfaction of duty accomplished and the elation of a fulfilled purpose._

_And then he is back on a balcony, under which the crowd roars, and it is a palace, a New Empire before him._

_“Our task is done, Lord Ren,” a voice says behind him._

_Kylo closes his eyes. Yes._

_“Vader’s legacy, upheld at last.” The voice sounds closer now, a hot breath brushing against the back of his neck. He shivers._

_“You have done well,” the man - definitely a man - says, and oh, how the words make Kylo’s knees go weak! It is all he can do to remain standing, leaning against the edge of a balcony that has now become the entire world. No crowd, no parade, just darkness and arms that wrap around his waist._

_He whimpers._

_“Kylo,” the man breathes against the shell of his ear, and Ren bites his lips._

_He turns, and sees a flash of green eyes and red hair -_

And wakes with a gasp. He is panting, his sheet are a tangled mess around his legs, clinging to his skin from his sweat.

He tosses his head back, and digs his fingers in the mattress to keep his hands from wandering towards his achingly hard cock.

 

*

 

Another fleet destroyed. Another officer dead - Lt. Talus, a quiet man, but efficient. Replaceable, but still competent enough that his death is a loss for the First Order.

And it is undeniably Ren’s fault.

Rather, Ren let it happen. Three ships had been destroyed in the first attack, an ambush of all things. To be so bested, so blindsided, had been too much of an insult to Ren’s pride. Another blow, and he lost all composure.

He killed many Resistance fighters that day, but in his rage he had thought only of cutting limbs and destroying planes, and therefore hadn’t gone to offer any assistance to the officers in the control room.

Had he gone, he would have had a better view of the situation, he could have found a better, more vital target for his power. Had anger not blinded him, the Resistance wouldn’t have had a victory today.

It is his failure.

Worse still is that it is a failure he has already experienced before. His past mistakes, repeated instead of learned from. If Kylo were to judge someone in his position, he would dole out the fiercest punishment he could think of.

So why didn’t Snoke? The Supreme Leader had sighed in disappointment, but had otherwise let Kylo go with nothing but words of disapproval.

There was a time when he would have simply been thankful for his Master’s mercy, but now… Now he wonders.

No, no it is more than that.

Lord Snoke is many things, but he is not merciful. Not sadistic either, but ruthless in his punishment. He encourages Ren’s rage to fuel his power, but had he applied the principles with which he taught, he would have inflicted pain so that Kylo may better control his rage.

To control his rage is to control his power. In that, Hux was right.

Yet the Supreme Leader had let Kylo’s rage go unchecked….

Part of him cries out in defense of his Master. Surely, this was a test? Surely, Kylo was meant to realize by himself that his rage cannot rule him as it does, that it allows failure to weaken him instead of spurring him on? If so, the Ren had nearly failed. Many things he questions in himself, but his rage wouldn’t have been off them if it weren’t…

If it weren’t for Hux.

He pushes that thought away for now. It isn’t relevant.

More immediate is the concerning fact that he himself doesn’t believe the justification he came up with.

Disloyal, he berates himself, weak, you still cannot resist the Light. Except that is wrong, for Kylo Ren is more dedicated than ever to the cause, wants nothing more than to go deeper into the Dark side still so that he may fulfill Vader’s vision.

But he is no longer certain Lord Snoke will let him.

And he can no longer chase such thoughts away.

He thinks of all that has happened since he first joined the First Order’s cause, since he recognized the importance of order and control in this decadent Galaxy, and despite all he has learned, how much he has grown since the days of weak and pathetic Ben Solo, despite everything he owes to Lord Snoke’s intervention...

Snoke did not care to help Ren control his anger.

Therefore, he does not wish for Ren to exploit his full potential.

He did not even intervene for the sake of the First Order.

Therefore, he does not care if the First Order.

It sounds so simple when put this way, but the mere thought makes his stomach churn, makes bile rise to his throat and his limbs shake. For the Supreme Leader is powerful, the Supreme Leader is wise, the Supreme Leader guides him, except for the fact that he obviously doesn’t.

But then, who can Kylo trust? Who will show him the way, who can he follow in order to accomplish his goals?

If he cannot trust Snoke, he can trust no one. And Snoke would have been content to use Kylo like a mad dog forever, on and on until...

Until Skywalker is killed. Until the last of the Jedi is hunted down by all the First Order’s ressources, dead by Ren’s hands, until every possible threat is destroyed by their powers combined and then Snoke would be the only Force user left in the Galaxy, the sole Master, unchallenged.

No more need for the First Order. No more need for Kylo Ren.

He used to wonder, in the past, why a man so powerful, who had lived for so long, why would someone so determined to restore the Empire could have allowed it to fall in the first place. The answer had always been simple.

Snoke doesn’t care about the First Order. Snoke doesn’t care about Kylo Ren.

Snoke only cares about Snoke.

And Ren, who has given up everything for this cause, who has killed for it and tormented himself for his perceived lack of commitment, who had done all of this because of his _master,_ because his master had shown him the way, the truth of the Galaxy, who still believes in the Cause with every fiber of his being… Ren can only think of one thing:

Snoke had lied.

The thought nearly makes him sick.

He takes his mask off and throws it to the side, bending over as he presses his fist to his mouth.

The betrayal cuts deep, panic rips the wound open, and -greatest of ironies - not a speck of rage to hold on to. Nothing but the cold, hard fact that his master, the man he has given himself to lied. He lied. He lied, _heliedheliedhelied_!

The durasteel table shatters, the chairs go flying. Kylo can hardly breathe.

He summons his lightsaber, the flickering, unstable blade never seeming so appropriate, and he blindly slashes to the side.

Something breaks. He doesn’t care what.

 _You have such potential in you,_ Snoke’s voice whispers into his head. Different from how it was in his youth ; a memory then. It isn’t helpful.

The lights in his room explode in a shower of sparks.

_You will grow strong, one day._

The sink breaks.

_We shall set order in the Galaxy._

His bed is cut to shreds, remnants of destroyed sheets float miserably in the air.

_Trust in me, Lord Ren._

There is nothing to destroy anymore, save himself, and though part of him wishes to drag his nails down his face, he suddenly feels much, much too drained to do anything.

Stumbling backwards, he ends up hitting the wall, and slowly lets himself slide to the floor. The durasteel feels so very cold.

What does he do? What can he do? Snoke is standing in his path to power, will not stand by the First Order, and so by Ren’s own code he must be stopped. Destroyed. As any enemy of the First Order ought to be.

But then who will take his place? Who will become the next Supreme Leader? Who can Kylo follow who….

He laughs then high and hysterical, the ugly sound made worse by the lack of voice modulator. He laughs so loudly he wonders if he can be heard throughout the Finalizer, despite his soundproof walls.

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, because he has been lied to, manipulated, and is truly a weak and pathetic thing.

Who can Kylo follow? That is the question that harasses him, rattles in his brain, because not for one minute did he ever consider taking the throne for himself.

It wouldn’t work, for many reasons: he isn’t part of the chain of command ; others will challenge him ; he doesn’t have any support.

But more than that, more than any of that, is the simple fact that Kylo Ren finds that he craves guidance. He can serve, oh how he can serve, but to lead….

The thought fills him with dread. Makes him want to gag.

That it makes him want to gag makes him suffocate in his shame.

Tears sting at the corner of his eyes, but he cannot allow them to fall, will not. No weaknesses, none further, he can’t -

Through his blurring vision, he spots Darth Vader’s mask, still resting on its pedestal. The transparisteel dome around it lays shattered on the floor, but the mask itself in intact, as if the Force itself forbid any harm from coming to it.

Battered, twisted, turning to ash, it stares back at him.

“Grandfather…” Ren whimpers, reaching out towards the pedestal. His arm is trembling as if he has been inflicted terrible wounds. It isn’t far from the truth. “Please… show me the path…”

The ashes stay silent. Of course they do.

What would Vader have to say to one such as him?

Vader, who Ren could never hope to equal. Who had installed an Empire, kept order in the Galaxy, in service of -

In service of the Emperor.

Oh.

Kylo lets out a breath that sounds both like a whimper and a moan of relief. He closes his eyes, and lets his head fall back.

He contemplates the thought for a moment, seconds, hours. It doesn’t matter, no one comes to disturb him. And thus, as the idea washes over him, he finds himself filled with a peace he hasn’t known in years.

If he is not to rule, then so be it. Neither did Vader, and it did not stop him from being great.

Kylo is already dedicated to the cause ; all he needs is to find himself a leader he can be just as dedicated to.

Someone with the vision Snoke lacks.

When Kylo opens his eyes, he knows.

 

*

 

“What do you want, Ren?”

“Who says I want anything?”

“Your very presence in my quarters, at this time,” Hux snaps. “I have had a taxing day, I am in no mood to bear you kriffing around!”

And oh, but the General never swears! The day must have been most wearisome indeed!

Kylo replays the words in his head, sees the cold glint in the General’s eyes. Anger, strong, but controlled. Always controlled.

His pulse quickens. He cannot help but push him, he wants to see _more._ “Are you ever?” he asks lightly, removing his mask and setting it on the table.

The left corner of Hux’s mouth twitches. “Indeed not, Ren, which is why I am amazed that you have yet to cease. Get on with it, before I throw you out.”

“I have come to speak of the Supreme Leader.”

Hux freezes. It is admittedly not very noticeable in such a man who always holds himself with rigid rigor, but still visible to one who is looking. “Have you?” he asks, his tone as calm as ever. It is impressive, but far less than the control the General has on his own mind. A lesser man would have attempted to keep his thoughts blank ; Hux merely keeps his steady and calm, using his own curiosity and irritation to mask any fear he might have.

Kylo Ren does not smile easily, but here he can feel his lips twitch.

The man who can truly accomplish the goals of the First Order.

This is a man who can rule an Empire.

And Kylo knows he wants to.

“I do not know what your Master said to you that you wish to discuss with me. I doubt that I care.” The General turns towards his desk, lifting a holopad before looking at it in practiced indifference. “I do hope it concerns me.”

“It does,” Ren answers simply. He would continue, but a sudden nervousness seizes him. He can feel his throat constricting, though he tries hard to hide it.

He is laying himself bare, making himself weak so that Hux may prove himself strong.

And he will, he has no doubt about that. What frightens him is that he will reveal his own fragility, his own limits, which would put him in Hux’s service if only the General will let him.

And maybe he will not. And that is what scares him. Truly scares him.

It seems that tonight they will both discover the depths in patheticness of Kylo Ren, for whom all his strength in the Force cannot keep him from craving a master to serve. Who could be as powerful as the Dark Side can give, but for whom serving a cause is not enough if it is not embodied by a man.

Snoke had been all that, once. He had been purpose and approval, and young Ben Solo felt worthy, felt strong. And then Kylo Ren felt disappointment. Felt betrayal. And went to find a Leader he could truly follow.

Perhaps there is some essence of the Sith in there: he went after what he wanted.

“Well?” Hux presses, and Kylo realizes he has stayed silent for too long.

This is it, then. “I believe that the Supreme Leader is not as devoted to our cause as us.”

Silence follows his words. It is very eloquent.

“You believe that?” the General asks carefully. His eyes are boring into Kylo’s.

“I know it.”

Hux cocks an eyebrow. “Dangerous words.”

“Are they?” Ren mimes the gesture.

“Questioning the Supreme Leader. A bold mark of disloyalty.”

“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

The meaning behind his words is clear to both of them, but Hux doesn’t respond. Most likely he is considering his options.

But Kylo cannot resist to push, so he slowly reaches out to the other man’s mind. Slowly but clumsily, deliberately letting his presence be felt.

Hux hisses, eyes flashing. “Stop that!”

Kylo’s mental fingers dig in slightly.

The General growls takes a step forward, as if to threaten him, as if he could do any harm. Calm, righteous fury is coming off him in waves as the two stand inches apart.

“What do you want, Ren?” Hux spits out, all the bile and venom in his being laced within those words.

He is fearsome.

He will be great.

“Order among the Galaxy,” Ren answers in a quiet breath.

And then, because there can be no misunderstanding, he sinks to one knee. Hands resting on the other, head bent for just a moment before he dares to look up.

Hux’s face has lost any pretense of dissimulation. The man’s features are twisted into the picture of shock, mouth parted open, eyes wide and unblinking.

And, Kylo realizes, pupils dilated. Pink tongue coming out to wet those thin lips.

“I believe in the First Order’s cause,” he says in a raspy voice. “And it will need a strong leader, a man of true vision, to accomplish it.”

Hux stares at him, expression impassive once more. Cold even.

Until a his lips stretch into a smile, small but vicious. Victorious.

A gloved hand reaches forward, cupping the side Knight’s face. The thumb brushes just below Kylo’s eye, soft leather like a gentle caress.

Green eyes shine hungrily.

Kylo thinks his might be doing the same.

“And what do you need, Lord Ren?” Hux asks softly. The look in his eyes tells Ren he already knows the answer.

And more importantly, that he isn’t averse.

Kylo closes his eyes, and breathes.


End file.
